


voice in my ear

by waveydnp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Halloween, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 17:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12562992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: it's spooky week 2014 and dan has scared himself shitless playing outlast alone in the dark. too bad phil's not there to make him feel better.





	voice in my ear

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to write a halloween fic but everything i write lately just turns into h/c with slightly sad dan and supportive loving phil. oh well

Dan hears a heavy thud right next to him. His heart leaps up into his throat and his body jerks violently in his chair before he’s even had a second to process what’s happening. His eyes scan the space around him, wide in terror, searching for the source of the intrusion.

They settle on something shiny and black on the floor and he huffs a tremendously relieved, wheezy laugh. He clutches his chest as his heart pounds against it and he allows air to fill his lungs once again.

He’s still laughing shakily as he leans down and picks it up. He smiles at the camera sheepishly and says, “That was my microphone falling off the desk. Ok, I’m gonna stop, I’m gonna stop.” He’s still grinning in embarassment as he turns off the mic and then the camera.

He leans back in the chair and covers his face with his hands, breathing heavily. This had definitely been a stupid idea. He’d have been scared enough sat in the lounge with all the lights on watching Winnie the Pooh or something.

He’s not been doing that. For the better part of the past hour he’s been sat all alone upstairs in the pitch black gaming room staring at mangled corpses and virtually fleeing from a psychotic serial killer.

Spooky Week hadn’t even been his idea--Phil’s the one who loves horror, who’d suggested they play a bunch of scary games in the week leading up to Halloween. And then Phil had gone and left Dan alone, giving him no choice but to film something terrifying all by himself, in the dark and wearing headphones of course, because the thing is with scary games, if you don’t immerse yourself, you’re not doing it right.

He’d immersed himself fully and without his usual safety blanket of playful banter with Phil, and he’s already regretting it, not thirty seconds after shutting off the game. He’d already gotten up and checked the hallway for baseball-bat wielding axe murderers once, but who knows, someone could’ve snuck in while he was being attacked by his recording equipment.

He doesn’t even entertain the idea of editing for a moment. He wants out of this room as soon as possible. He wants something to distract him from how dark it is. From how alone he feels.

It’s utterly ridiculous and he knows it. Phil’s only been gone a day. He’ll only be gone a day more. There are people all around him, in the flats that neighbour his and the busy London streets below him. Even in the middle of the night he can hear the sounds of traffic. He’s left on every single light and closed the blinds on every single window in the apartment.

But it doesn’t matter. He hates being alone. More than that really, he hates being without Phil. Especially in the home they share. It just feels wrong.

He checks the time on his phone: 2am. He absolutely cannot justify staying up a moment later, even though he’d like nothing better than to distract himself from his fear and loneliness by playing a less scary game until the sun rises and he feels safe enough to curl up in bed and go to sleep without worrying about what’s lurking in the shadows. He can’t do that anymore. He’s already stayed up far too late and he’s supposed to be taking this stuff more seriously now.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself out of his chair. He peeks his head round the corner of the doorframe before stepping out into the hall. He descends the stairs slowly and deliberately with his back pressed against the wall. He goes to the bathroom and sits on the closed lid of the toilet as he brushes his teeth, only standing in front of the mirror when it’s time to spit. Mirrors are dangerous when he’s this irrationally frightened--he’s seen one too many demon faces pop up in mirrors and windows in the countless horror movies Phil’s forced him to watch over the years.

When he’s done he runs up the stairs full tilt and into Phil’s room, slamming the door behind him and launching himself into the bed. He feels more than a little ridiculous because he’s twenty three years old and really should have outgrown this by now, but at least there’s no one here to witness his shame. He hopes.

He leaves on all his clothes, including his socks, and quickly burrows under the blue and green duvet. He buries his face in the pillow and the scent of Phil is so overwhelming it almost brings tears to his eyes. He rolls over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. Usually he appreciates how high they are, but right now they’re just serving to make him feel pitifully small. His eyes follow the crack that runs along the ceiling and down the side of the wall in the corner of the room

He closes his eyes and tries to empty his mind of everything conspiring to keep him awake.

It’s pointless.

He’d had a good day. He’d done everything he was supposed to do. He’d showered and taken his pills and eaten a healthy breakfast. He’d walked to his appointment and filmed two videos and texted Phil whenever he felt lonely. But now that there’s nothing to distract him, no soft fingers against his skin or gentle breath on his neck, the sadness, the emptiness starts to creep in around the edges. His resistance is worn thin by the naked vulnerability of his solitude.

It’s the middle of the night. He shouldn’t call Phil. He can’t. Phil’s definitely sleeping--he’d stopped texting Dan hours ago. He’d be waking Phil up and exposing just how much he’d ignored one of the most important of their new rules: get a good sleep every single night. He doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t want to expose that failure. He also doesn’t want to make it quite so obvious how quickly he falls apart without Phil by his side.

But he also remembers what Phil had said to him before he left. “Call me if you need me.”

He remembers what his therapist had told him just this morning. “Support from loved ones is crucial to recovery.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials Phil’s number before he has time to change his mind. It rings four times.

He’s about to give up and hang up when he hears Phil’s gruff, obviously still at least half asleep voice croak, “Hello?”

“Shit. I forgot how sexy you sound on the phone.”

“Dan?” Phil sounds confused.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Would anyone else call you this late at night?”

“It’s not night. It’s morning. It’s very early in the morning.”

“I know,” Dan says quietly.

“Please don’t tell me you woke me up at half two for phone sex.”

He hadn’t, but honestly, it’s not the worst idea. It’d definitely distract him, and he’d probably be tired enough afterwards to fall asleep. “You up for it?”

“Dan,” Phil says softly. “What’s wrong.”

“Why does something have to be wrong for me to want to wank while my fit boyfriend talks dirty to me?”

Dan can practically see Phil’s eyes rolling.

“Why are you still up, babe?”

Dan sighs. He pulls the blanket up over his head to hide from how pathetic he feels. “I’m scared.” It’s only a small part of the truth, but it’s as much as he’s willing to admit to right now.

“Are you in bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Are the lights on?”

“Of course.”

“Did you film something?”

“Yes. I’ll never forgive you for making me do that all alone.”

“Did you play Slender?”

Dan snorts. “I’d literally be dead right now if I had. I played Outlast.”

“Did you go to your appointment?”

Dan frowns. “Yes, mum, god.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line for awhile--long enough for Dan to wonder if the call’s been dropped.

Finally, Phil whispers, “I shouldn’t have left.”

Dan feels a little twinge in his gut. Guilt. Of course Phil would say something like that. Of course he’d be worried.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s just a couple days. I’m fine.”

“I should have brought you with me. Everyone keeps asking why you’re not here.”

“I had my appointment,” Dan reminds him sadly. He wishes quite fiercely that he was lying next to Phil in Kath and Nigel’s new house on Isle of Man.

“I should’ve stayed with you, then. I can come down here any time.”

“Phil, I didn’t call to make you feel bad.”

Phil is quiet again for a long time

“I worry about you. All the time.”

Dan’s throat tightens. “You don’t have to.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I’m f—”

Phil cuts him off. “Please don’t say you’re fine. Please. You’re supposed to be honest with me about your feelings, remember? That’s what the therapist said.”

Dan bites his lip. Phil’s right. “I miss you,” he whispers. “So much. Even after one fucking day.”

“I know.”

“Everything feels wrong when you’re not here.” He feels heat behind his eyes. The intensity of it all surprises him. He blinks back the tears beginning to form.

“It does for me too,” Phil says. “Can I tell you something?”

Dan sniffles, wiping his nose against his shirt. “Yeah.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Dan laughs. “Fuck’s sake, Phil. I’m trying to keep it together here.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to say this stuff when I can’t see you. But I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a while.”

Dan closes his eyes and all he can see is Phil. “Come home please.”

“I will. Tomorrow.”

“We’ll have to film something for Spooky Week.”

“Slender,” Phil replies gleefully.

Dan groans. “I will literally physically cling to you all night.”

“That’s the idea.”

“You snek.” Dan smiles. “You’ve just reminded me of how bloody scared I am right now, Phil.”

“Do something for me,” Phil says.

“What?”

“Turn off the light.”

“What?” Dan squawks. “Why?”

“Just do it. You’ll never fall asleep with it on.”

“I might,” Dan says stubbornly.

Phil lets his silence communicate how little stock he puts into that argument.

“Fine,” Dan grumbles. He gets up and walks across the room to the light switch. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I know.”

He flips off the light and dives for the bed. When he puts the phone back to his ear Phil is laughing loudly.

“Stop laughing at me,” Dan says, pulling the duvet back up under his chin. “You’re gonna wake up your parents.”

“And you’re gonna break our bed.”

“Good,” Dan says petulantly. “It’s hideous anyway.”

“You could always sleep in yours.”

He could. He likes his own bed well enough. It’s just as soft and cozy as this one--it even has fairy lights on it. But they rarely sleep in that bed together. It doesn’t smell like Phil. It doesn’t remind him of nights tangled up together, watching telly or making each other sweat or just drifting off to sleep in the safety of each other’s arms like this one does.

“I like this one better,” he whispers.

“I like your mum better,” Phil says, voice hardly more than a croak.

“Oi.”

Phil chuckles. “Sorry. Tired.”

Dan hates the little spike of panic that rises in his chest then, but he lets himself feel it because Phil’s right, he’s not supposed to keep these things to himself anymore. “Don’t leave yet. Please.”

“I won’t,” Phil promises. “Close your eyes.”

Dan lets his eyelids drop.

“Put me on speaker,” Phil says quietly.

Dan does, and lays the phone down on the pillow, right next to his ear. He listens to Phil’s soft steady breaths and welcomes the heaviness of fatigue that finally starts to settle in his limbs.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Dan says.

“Trying not to. Just relax. I’m here.”

Dan smiles. Honestly, what would he do without this man?

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Love you too, now shush.”

Dan smiles again, listening to Phil breathe. It reminds him of those nights in the very beginning when they’d spend hours on Skype, waffling until they could barely keep their eyes open, and eventually he’d wake up next morning with the laptop balanced on his chest, battery dead. Phil’s been helping Dan sleep since before they’d even been in the same city together.

He’s not sure if he matches his own breathing with Phil’s or vice versa, or if it’s just something that’s happened naturally. He still doesn’t know how that always happens, how they always seem to end up in sync in every aspect of their life, but they do. They always do and they have again, because when Dan wakes up the next morning with his dead phone wedged under his cheek, he has no idea who’d fallen asleep first. He only knows that, yet again, he has Phil to thank for keeping him sane. And that he’s never playing another bloody horror game by himself ever again.   

**Author's Note:**

> waveydnp on tumblr :)


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